


let's forget who we are

by scripturient



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: M/M, luke watches michael before performing, muke are in a secret relationship, p much jet black heart slfl era, that's pretty much it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2019-04-24 17:47:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14360469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scripturient/pseuds/scripturient
Summary: He is ethereal. He is untouchable. And you are one lucky guy, having someone as breathtaking, as magnificent as him as your best friend and lover.Or the one where Luke can't stop watching Michael during his song, Jet Black Heart.





	let's forget who we are

**Author's Note:**

> it's the year 2018 and i still come back to this fandom, no matter how many times i try to leave. (jk as if i wanna fucking leave) HEY Y'ALL did ya miss me? no? well that's okay i'm here to make all of you miss me again (jk)
> 
> BASICALLY, i was just minding my ass by deciding to rewatch the jbh mv and there were suggested slfl vids and one made me emotional to the point where i had to rant about how beautiful of a song jbh is and then i come up with this one
> 
> i was inspired from [these](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YyE8TcSf5cc) [videos,](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BnQIgJ2fnAY) (voLUME WARNING TO THOSE WHO'LL WATCH) but the whole shtick came from my self. i do not own anything, just this piece of work. happy reading!

When the lights go off, all of you leave your places to do whatever it is you wanted. Ashton jumps down his platform, meeting up with Calum who’s giving his bass to a crew member. Michael’s on the other side of the stage, doing the same to get a bottle of water. You on the other hand, having already given your guitar, are rushing your way to get to the nearest toilet.

Really though, you’re glad for this short break. After this one is what you’d like to call Michael’s Song, or Jet Black Heart. These days, when the lights come up and the blue spotlight is on him, the fans start going crazy, screaming for so long that you, Ashton, and Calum could have a quick meal if you wanted.

It’s unbelievable, really, you think as you flush the toilet, making your way to the sink to wash your hands. Somehow, it just happened. You don’t remember when or which venue this whole thing began, but as you hop from place to place, the screams grow louder and longer. Sometimes, the screams are so loud you could literally hear them at the farther area backstage.

You’re already making your way onstage again, nodding and smiling at whoever caught your eye. Calum and Ashton are seated on a bench situated a few feet away from the stage, the former on his phone while Ashton talked to a staff member.

Someone offers you a new bottle which you gratefully accept, almost drinking half of it when you arrive onstage. The fans couldn’t see you, since majority of the lights are dimmed, and the blue lights are on ~~your~~  their favorite bandmate.

You’re glad you’ve put your earpieces in, or else your ears would be ringing by now. Sure enough, they’re still at it, and it’s probably been three minutes past your break. You let out a small whistle at that, in awe at your fans’ breath controls and vocal chords.

Without making your appearance that obvious, you try to scan the fans’ faces nearest you. They’re all screaming, most of them are hugging the person nearest them, if not crying. The others keep screaming and screaming at Michael, and you can easily read from the way their mouths move that they’re calling his name or swearing or saying ‘I love you!’

You smile at that. It’s amazing how all these people have gathered to see you and your best friends perform. It’s been how many years since they started coming to your concerts, and it tugs on your heartstrings a little when you realize that until now, their support is still there, never wavering. Their presence is always there, and sure, sometimes having them there overwhelms you all, but you know that you can always count on them.

That’s enough reflecting, you tell yourself. If you last longer, you might start breaking down, which is something you hate doing. You realize that until now, they’re still going at it, and you shake your head, impressed. You see Ashton and Calum making their way back and you grin at them.

When they’re somehow within earshot, Ashton exclaims, “They never get tired, don’t they?!” 

You laugh, “I know! It’s been minutes!”

“Already nearing five minutes, I think! Fuck, they’re cool!” Calum swears a few feet away from you as he wears the straps of his bass, and you and Ashton laugh again.

Ashton goes to climb back to his platform, and you, having already worn your guitar, decide to take a look at the huge LED screen behind you, featuring a close up view of Michael’s face.

His eyes are one of his attributes you love about him; so expressive and varying in shades of green. They look better up close or at night, when he looks at you when you and him sleep on the same bed at times when the demons are too much for him or he just needs some company (or because you want to).

Right now, those very eyes on the screen are slowly but surely filling up with tears, and it doesn’t surprise you. When it’s his time to shine, when it’s Jet Black Heart time, he rarely doesn’t tear up. And you know it’s because of the fans, because of their screaming. You know that he tends to lose himself at their noise because he likes listening to them, and really, who doesn’t?

This was why Amnesia and Beside You became your favorite songs to play live. The noises they make, plus you being surrounded by lights? God, you can’t explain how _good_ it feels, to be doing this and to be adored by people when you do this.

You turn to look at Michael, who is stood in front of his mic, hands ready to play. He’s looking at every single area of this venue, and his smiles switch from tight-lipped to huge grins, and you _love it_. The tears are so close to falling now, and as you stare at him like this, hands ready to play, him ready to sing, the blue lights only on him, you realize that _he looks beautiful_.

He is ethereal, he is untouchable. _He’s_ the one who looks like an angel, not you. He’s so…vulnerable like this, but in that good-I-want-to-cry way, being in his element, surrounded by tons of fans who support him. He used to be that guy people called crazy, who was known only for his crazy hair colors and his loud personality. Now, he was known as the writer of heavy songs such as The Only Reason, Wrapped Around Your Finger, and now this one. Jet Black Heart, the heaviest and darkest song he’s ever written, and you couldn’t be any prouder.

Beautiful green eyes, a funny guy to be with, and his lyrical skills? No wonder you’re so whipped for him. No wonder the number of fans in his ‘lane’ are growing at an alarming rate.

Too bad they don’t know that he’s yours.

You momentarily snap out of it when he sighs through his mic after fixing his earplugs (did he just remove them while you were spacing out?), and the speakers reverberate that sound. He’s so close to crying, you can tell. You can look at this whole thing forever, to be honest. Like, just grab a chair and look at him staring at the fans and struggling to sing without shedding tears.

He breathes shakily, fingers twitching as he goes to start singing after what seemed like seven minutes. Except, he doesn’t _exactly_ sing immediately.

" _Everyb_ -” he starts, and he takes a step back and you realize, _he’s actually crying_. He’s not just tearing up, he’s literally on the way to sobbing.

That…that does it to you as well. Your bottom lip trembles as a sob tries to make its way out of your throat, and your vision is clouding with tears. You’re not sure why you’re crying, if it’s because of the overwhelming fans, seeing him look like a fucking angel under those lights, or him actually struggling to sing.

“ _Everybody-_ ” he tries again and fails, taking another step back while the fans scream even louder. And for the first time since this whole segment, he looks at you and it feels like he just punched you in the gut with his beauty.

He’s biting on his lip so hard before he covers it with the back of his palm, his eyebrows are furrowed in frustration, trying to concentrate on not crying, but his now cyan eyes (thanks to the lights) that you can see from here are glassy and damp, further proving his struggle.

You are one lucky guy, having someone as breathtaking, as magnificent as _him_ as your best friend and lover.

Another batch of tears slide down your cheek, and you quickly wipe them away, sniffing and sending a little smile and nod his way. No need for Michael to see you in this state, crying in disbelief and pride for him. Jet Black Heart is indeed his song, and even if you and Calum sing along with him, it is _his_ and _his_ song only.

He turns away and you’re glad, and he tries again for the third time.

“ _Everybody’s got their demons, even wide awake or dreaming._ ” He triumphs, but you can hear the rasp in his voice as he sings, and you know it’s not out of exhaustion.

His guitar-playing fills the venue, and what was once the fans’ screams quickly dies and replaces with chants, waving their flashlights in left and right directions. Right now, it’s just him, his guitar, and the fans, and you love when this happens, too.

The bouncing lights, the contrast of Michael’s low octaves and the fans’ high ones blending in harmony, the sight of Michael standing underneath blue lights, playing his guitar and singing shakily, are enough to send another batch of tears down your face. Once again, you quickly wipe them away, not wanting him and the fans to see you cry.

He’s singing the pre-chorus now, and the fans are there with him at every lyric. Seriously, you’d want this to happen to you forever.

When he sings the chorus, your heartbeat quickens. This right here comes as a close second to what you love about Michael’s Song. The way he swoops down his mic, the way the words tumble out of his mouth like that, and how his playing becomes firmer and his singing becomes more passionate make you want to record this so you could play it every night before going to bed.

Damn it, you love him. You love him _so much_ it hurts. You’re so lucky, and you continue thanking every deity you could think of every day at the fact that someone like Michael is yours to love. That someone as beautiful and as broken as Michael exists, so he writes songs like these. That someone like Michael is supported by fans like these, and oh god you need to stop thinking, you’re crying again.

Michael’s belting out the last of the chorus, and you run a hand through your face, the lights are on and are blindingly at you, Ashton makes a beat, and you sing out your verse as heartfelt as you can, even though you know that Michael does it better than you, that your singing of this song does no justice to how he does it, and you’re perfectly okay with that. 

You sing along with him in the pre-chorus, a part of the song that you like more than necessary. You just really like how this echoing thing goes. It’s literally a few seconds of you and him singing about your mutual brokenness (and how you think that in this way, you’re bearing him with his pains, too) and that’s enough for you to give these few lyrics your all, too.

The chorus comes once more, and when the fans and Michael’s favorite part is about to come up, you feel a smile tugging at your lips. 

Sure enough, when Ashton does that pumping beat and you and Michael belt out the first ‘woah,’ he walks away from the mic stand and goes to interact with the fans like the fierce musician he is, urging everyone to belt out with you, to scream louder.

He even does the usual “ _Go! At the back! On the left! Everybody now! Again!_ ” in his raspier voice, and it still sends you tingles down your spine. He’s so committed, so passionate, so _great_ as a musician.

When Calum’s part comes on—which, by the way, his voice is enchanting as it fills through the speakers—Michael’s playing that improvised ‘woah‘ over and over, and you can’t stop yourself from grinning at him and smiling as he does so.

You’re proud of him, you really are. Fuck it if the fans see you ogling him, it’s the truth, anyway. And besides, if they could ogle at him, so can you, right?

“ _As we burst into color, returning to life…_ ” Calum nails that last note perfectly, despite his (somewhat) faltering voice when he first started to sing (you knew it was because he was crying, too. His slightly red nose gave it all).

Your guitars clash together and the sounds get stronger and stronger before Michael belts out the chorus once more, and a tear sneakily slides down the side of your face when you sing along.

Wow, he’s got you in deep, doesn’t he? You’re in so deep for him that every time he looks so in his element, so intense, he sends you tearing up. You’re not sure if you should wonder what he’s done to you, or if you should just go with it. Besides, it’s expected that things like these would happen if you get into a relationship with someone you _really_ love. Like, _I want to be with you forever_ kind of love.

When the song finishes, Ashton yells in his mic about how that was, “ _really, really intense, fuck! You guys are awesome! Michael is awesome! Everyone give him a round of applause for making us all cry and shit!_ ”

You, Calum, and Michael laugh as the fans scream in agreement. You turn to your secret boyfriend, who’s already staring at you, by the way, as you clap your hands so hard your palms sting, but you honestly don’t give a fuck. He deserves this kind of palm-stinging applause. You even go as far as to cheer along in your mic, saying stupid things such as, “Everybody never stop clapping for Michael!” to further emphasize how much he deserves this.

He’s staring at you so fucking fondly, honestly, and his toothy smile is by far your second most favorite attribute of his (first being his lips, of course), and you’re glad you’ve moved away from the mic because you’re sure you just made a sound in your throat with how he looked at you in all his charming glory.

Thank god for Jet Black Heart. Thank god for the fans. Thank god for Michael Clifford.

**Author's Note:**

> okay seriously, jet black heart is forever going to make me feel things. this is just a reminder of how we were all blessed with an amazing human bean such as michael clifford to grace this fucking ball of dirt with his lyrical prowess.
> 
> also this is just me saying y'all can embrace the new era like i do, but let's face it sgfg was a great era and we have this beautiful piece thanks to that.
> 
> anyways if you wanna, you can follow me on my [twitter](https://twitter.com/enigma5sos)! this is a new one, i deleted my first fan acc like a year ago because it was mainly for twitter votes, i think we were voting the boys for an mtv award or something, yea. hope you loved this shit, thanks for reading!
> 
> (also of fucking course this had to be muke. i'm muke trash. it's what i do.)


End file.
